Sidekicks Through The Years
by fufulupin
Summary: A series of short blurbs involving Willow, Xander, and their friendship as it progresses over the years.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: No owny. Just feelin' in the W/X friendship mood. Isn't it strange how you can love a friendship so dearly despite it's, uh…fictionalness?

A/N: The dialogue from scenes that actually exist were not meant to be exact. If I were feeling in a researchy mood as well as my W/X friendship mood, I might be willing to track down transcripts or even to scour my own brain for quotes—but I'm not. Sorry if that annoys anyone.

**Year 1**

First day of school.

Okay, so it wasn't _exactly _the first day, Willow Rosenberg told herself with a smile as she trotted up the stairs leading to Sunnydale High. Still, the sun was bright (granted, a normal thing for southern California), the students were milling about (not exactly a bizarre event when it came to a high school of any kind), and she was feeling optimistic about the day ahead (also not a rarity when one was Willow). Everything felt good.

And it all got better the moment she saw Xander Harris crash his skateboard into a rail and land on his back.

A broad grin crossed the redheaded sophomore's face as she watched her best friend sprawl across the steps, groaning and gripping the railing with one hand in a half-hearted attempt to stop his fall. It wasn't that she _wanted_ to see him get hurt, of course, but the look on his face was just so adorable—sort of a mix of pain, humiliation and, weirdly enough, amusement at himself.

Moving at a speed that she hoped wouldn't look too rushed, Willow came past him, offering a sympathetic smile. Just as she'd anticipated, a wide returning grin split Xander's face.

"Willow! My bestest of buds! Just the person I wanted to see!"

She lifted an eyebrow, waiting for the words she knew from experience were coming.

"I've been having some trouble with the math," he announced, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet and draping an arm around her shoulders. As if that would help his cause.

_Although, hey, not complaining._ "Which part?"

"The math." Bestowing another wicked Xander-smile upon her, he shook her shoulders amiably. "Come on, tutor me please. I beg of you."

_Yes sir._ "What's in it for me?"

His grin grew, if possible, even larger. "A shiny nickel!"

She shook her head. _God, he is such a little boy sometimes…which, heaven help me, is why I love him so much. _"All right, Xand. Tonight, my place. Sound good?"

His other arm went around her and her knees nearly buckled with the effort of walking, holding her books, and being hugged by her long-time crush all at the same time. "Sounds awesome," he answered cheerfully. "Can we order Chinese too?"

"With fortune cookies?" she finished, feeling happier than ever. The Xand-man's cheer was catching.

_Another reason I love him._

* * *

"Vampires. Exist. Vampires. Are real."

The words sounded absolutely sick to Xander's ears. Yet, somehow, they also seemed perfectly ordinary.

"Vampires. Are. Real."

He uncertainly dragged both hands through his mop of brown hair and turned his eyes toward his bedroom ceiling. "How could we not have noticed this, Will? We've lived here our whole lives. How could we not have—"

She shook her head, staring unblinkingly at a stain on his carpet. He knew, without asking, what she was thinking.

"Jesse's dead," he stated, feeling number than ever. "Jesse's dust. And he's never coming back."

Her eyes closed and she leaned back against the headboard of his bed. The arms that hugged his favorite pillow to her chest suddenly looked much smaller and more fragile than Xander remembered. He strode to the bed and plopped down beside her, repeating himself one more time.

"Vampires are real and Jesse's dead." A wry, humorless smile stole across his face. "Does anyone else feel like they've been thrown onto a movie set without a script or any cues?"

"We shouldn't worry," Willow said in a small, hollow voice. "We've got Buffy now. Buffy will protect us."

"Buffy shouldn't _have_ to protect us," Xander replied, feeling a strange burst of indignation in his chest. It was incredibly wiggy, true, but he felt as if he should be the one to protect Willow. This beautiful new blond girl—_hot and wicked strong though she is_—shouldn't be the one to watch them at all times. And, from the sound of it all, it seemed like she would have a whole lot more on her plate than just following the two of them around with a stake in hand and a bodyguard sign attached to her shirt.

"She's the Slayer," he murmured. "And here I thought I might have a chance."

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Willow flinch. She burrowed her face into his pillow and took a deep breath.

Several minutes passed in silence, during which Xander got up from the bed and resumed his pacing around the room. His eyes flicked from artifact of his life to artifact of his life. His skateboard rested in one corner underneath a practically-unused basketball and a small stack of Marvel comics. A dusty acoustic guitar lay half-buried under several unwashed flannel shirts and a holey pair of jeans. Posters of favorite rock bands and signs bearing useless sayings adorned every wall. Everything seemed brilliantly new and, at the same time, painfully like a mark of his mediocrity and laziness.

_I never took the time to learn all the guitar chords_, he found himself thinking wildly. _I could die tomorrow—tonight—and I never bothered to learn that lousy F chord._

"What are we going to do?" Willow's voice sounded like she looked: tiny, broken. Terrified. He went to her again and instinctively pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Same thing as always, Wills," he said with more confidence than he could really muster. "We'll go to school. You'll tutor me, I'll keep just on the brink of failing to keep the teachers on their toes. We'll meet up with Buffy and see what's what. Hell, maybe I'll get a chance to poke a bit of fun at that Giles guy. He seemed like a laugh a minute, didn't he?"

She made a muffled sound into his chest that could've been a giggle or a sob. Emboldened by the thought that he might, just _might_ be cheering her up, Xander went on.

"I'll keep you away from the influence of your parents, like usual. If your father were to get the chance to brainwash you into thinking the Snoopy dance was of the devil, I don't know what I'd do. And you'll continue to hide me from my folks with the cover of late-night movie-fests, Bronze trips, and lots of pizza.

"As for the rest…well, I guess we'll just have to wing it."

She made another little sound and, from the way her shoulders were shaking, he guessed she wasn't cackling at his wit. Sighing, he gripped her more tightly to him, pressing his face into her vibrant hair and inhaling the scent of Willow. The scent of protection.

Deep down, he wasn't sure he could continue to walk the walk and talk the talk of the normal world. Not after what he'd witnessed, not after knowing what he knew. Not after staking one of the best friends he'd ever had. But something told him weakness was not an option. Not anymore.

_Xander Harris, coward no more_, he thought dryly.

A/N: Short, kinda fluffy. I dunno, I just felt like writing short little blurbs about the sidekicks. I'm pretty sure—no promises now—that this will continue through the years, cataloguing the strengthening of the Will/Xand friendship. Who knows? Maybe some nice reviews will help bolster my writing abilities.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still no owny. Strange, ain't it?

**Year 2**

_Can't believe…can't believe…oh, God, I can't _breathe_…_

Willow Rosenberg wanted very much to throw up. Her breath was coming in sharp pants, painful, _agonizing_, and she wasn't sure how much further she could go. Stumbling in the dark wasn't much fun under the best of circumstances, but on a night like this one, in a town like Sunnydale…

_Thank God this is my house._

Her brain couldn't process the events of the evening. She was trying, she really was, but—_but what is there to _say_? What is there to _think

_Okay, Willow. Okay. One thing at a time. _

_Angel is evil._

_He has no soul._

_He tried to kill me._

_Ms. Calendar is a gypsy spy._

_Can we trust her?_

_Buffy is the reason Angel is evil._

_How do I help her?_

_Xander._

She stopped herself there, unable to reply to the hideous scene that kept going in her mind, as if it were on repeat. The image of Xander, the guy she loved, the guy she had depended on for basically her whole life, swapping spit with _Cordelia Chase_, of all people…

_I'm going to be sick._

Her legs gave out as soon as she reached her room. Her butt hit the floor first; then she slumped forward, doing a sort of faceplant into her carpet. It was the sort of fall that would have made Xander laugh and laugh—if he were here. If he was with her.

If he wasn't with Cordelia Chase.

_Oh, God, why _Cordelia_, of all people? _

_Maybe he was brainwashed._

Yes, yes, that had to be it, she reasoned with all the illogic of a person who had very nearly been killed quite shortly after seeing the boy she loved making out with a girl they both hated. _Yes, she brainwashed him. That's all. It's all her fault, she really _is _evil, spat out by the Hellmouth to make my life an absolute living Hell—_

This was all wrong, she thought crazily. Everything was wrong. Perhaps she had accidentally worked her way into a different dimension entirely, one where Cordelia was perfectly nice, where Angel was perfectly homicidal, where Xander was perfectly insane—

A tear slipped down her cheek. This wasn't another world. This was her world, the one she'd grown up in.

_When did it change so much?_

* * *

Xander Harris was fuming.

Okay, yes, Willow _technically_ had a right to be thinking of someone other than Xander himself. In fact, this was preferable. He had a girlfriend of his very own to be concerned with; the last thing he wanted was to worry constantly about smashing his best friend's heart into a million tiny Willow-heart-shaped pieces. And the fact that she had Oz now was…was…

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to think it.

_Good._

That's what it was. It was _good_. Wasn't it?

Of course it was.

Gritting his teeth, he allowed his gaze to sneak across the bleachers to where the boy called Oz—_Oz, what the hell kind of name is _Oz,_ anyway?—_was smiling a shy smile at _his _Willow, gently tucking the tag back into her shirt.

"He's all _over _her," he muttered angrily, ignoring the look Cordy shot him. "Look at him. Can't you keep your paws to yourself for five minutes?"

Cordelia shook her head, clearly irritated. He continued to ignore her. _Hey, plan of action that worked for the past twelve years. Why change it if it works?_

The worst part was the way Willow, _his_ Willow, grinned sappily back at the boy. Xander couldn't believe how _crass—and don't think I don't know how proud Giles would be of me for using the word 'crass'_—she was being. Didn't she know he was watching? Couldn't she feel his eyes on her? Couldn't she _see_ that her actions were tearing him up inside.

_Get a hold of yourself, Harris_, a little voice barked inside his head. _What are you thinking, you fool? This is _Willow_. Doesn't Willow deserve to be happy? Doesn't she deserve someone who loves her?_

I _love her_, he shot back. _I've always loved her. She's my best friend. Why should she need anyone else? _

_That is so unfair_, that little voice complained. _And you know it._

He sighed. It seemed he'd been arguing with this little voice for quite some time, and, truth be told, it was starting to worry him. _The last thing a person living on a Hellmouth needs is to develop a split personality disorder_, he thought idly. _With my luck, that personality would probably pop out of my forehead like some kind of horrible clone-zit and start taking over my life…_

He didn't even want to think about the possibilities.

Instead, he focused on Oz. The boy was quite a bit shorter than Xander himself—_shorter than Will, even_. His hair was dark brown and spiked up at the moment, but Xander was sure he'd seen it in a variety of colors over the past two months. What did that mean? Did that suggest Oz was a creative type or simply someone easily bored with things? Willow didn't need someone who would stick around for a week or two, then run off. If that was Oz's intention, Xander intended to beat it out of him.

_Probably best to figure this out for sure first_, he reminded himself, relaxing the hand that had instinctively curled into a fist against his knee.

_He seems nice_, that annoyingly-rational little voice observed. _He seems like the kind of sweet, smart, sensitive guy that the Willster deserves, doesn't he?_

_But he's a _musicianXander argued ignoring his own brush with music. _A guitar player. Practically a rock star. Totally untrustworthy._

_You're just jealous_, the voice replied snidely.

_Jealous? Of him? Why, 'cause he can play guitar? Pfft. Who cares?_

The voice fell silent, but Xander knew exactly what it had been getting at. All their lives, it had been just the two of them. Willow and the Xand-man, 'till the end. He'd always protected her, she'd always helped him. And that was all they needed.

_Well, us and Jesse. But, let's be honest, he was never really part of the Will and Xand Show. _

Now, though…now everything was so _different_. Buffy had come to Sunnydale and brought with her so much demonic baggage that sometimes Xander thought privately that _she_ had been the one to activate the Hellmouth.

Then, of course, he tended to feel guilty. If it weren't for Buffy, he reasoned, both he and Willow would probably be as dead as Jesse. The girl had done a hell of a lot more good than bad since coming to this town and he was nothing but grateful for it.

Most of the time.

Still, as he watched Oz give his Willow's shoulder a friendly pat, Xander couldn't help but think that everything would be so much better if it was still all about the Will and Xand Show.

_I guess it's too late for that._

* * *

_If she doesn't wake up…_

Xander cut himself off before the thought could run it's course. He couldn't think that way, he chided himself, couldn't even _think _about thinking that way. No way.

Willow was going to wake up.

She had to. He wasn't going to give her a choice. True, she was Buffy's best friend and, yeah, Oz's girlfriend, but to him, she was so much more. She was the most important thing in the world, when it came down to it, and he wasn't going to let her go without a fight.

Sitting there, beside her bed in that terribly-happy hospital room, Xander cradled his head in his hands and held back tears. He was alone in the room, excepting the inert form of his best friend; there was no reason he couldn't cry and still come off looking like a manly man to the outside world.

But tears would mean something to cry about. If he allowed himself to finish that thought, the one that had been racing around his brain again and again since he found her under that bookcase…

"Come on, Will," he croaked, reaching out and taking her still hand. "Come on. Don't do this to me. Please, Will, you've always been there. Don't…don't change now."

She, predictably, said nothing. Her chest continued to rise and fall and the monitor she was hooked up to gave off a steady string of beeps, but her eyes refused to open and her fingers didn't tighten around his. Xander drew in a breath.

"Willow…I don't…you can't do this to me, Will. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're the best person I've ever known, the only one who has always accepted me. You shielded me from my parents, you comforted me when I felt unbearably stupid…you even watched all those dumb kung-fu movies with me. You can't leave me now. I've still gotta pay you back for all that you've done for me."

Still no response. His heart ached unpleasantly to see her like this, so still and—_well, unconscious._ His Willow was normally such a happy person, so full of goofy energy and huge, catchy smiles. To see her here, in a hospital bed, unable to move or talk or even hear him…

When he swallowed this time, he thought the lump in his throat would dissolve for sure.

"Will…Willow, come on. You have to wake up. You _have _to. You're my best friend. The best friend I will ever have. You've had so many chances to desert me, to come to your senses and walk away…and you never have. You're the best person I've ever had in my life.

"I love you."

The words slipped past his lips before he had a chance to really think them through, but as soon as they were out in the open, he knew they were true. No second thought was needed: he loved Willow. And she loved him too, he knew it. For so long, they were all each other had...

And he was determined to keep it that way.

"I love you," he repeated, squeezing her hand.

She squeezed back.

He jumped, thoroughly surprised. _Did she just…_

Her lips were moving and a faint groan escaped. A faint groan that repeated itself, becoming more understandable.

"Oz," she muttered. "Oz."

And, somehow, he was there. Short, spiky-haired, in all his wolfy-glory, Oz was by her side, taking her hand as soon as Xander released it, kissing her forehead and basking in the Willow-love.

Smiling tightly, Xander got up from the chair he'd been stationed in for hours and began to back toward the door. She was awake. This was by far the best thing that could have happened.

So why did he feel so terrible all of a sudden?

_Because,_ that nasty little voice spoke up, _you were the one to pull her back into this world. Your words brought her back. And she'll never know._

_Maybe that's for the best._

A/N: Okay, so no reviews yet. I can work with that. Really. It's not making me feel like I can't write worth jack or anything…

Kidding. I know the Buffy scene has slowed down. I know there probably aren't hundreds of people lining up to read these fics anymore…but, y'know, if you happen to stumble into the fluffyness and it's not too much trouble…reviews are always a _nice _thing to get, aren't they?


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